Growing Up
by zebralily999
Summary: Various stories about how the Turtles develop as they grow up. The stories will sometimes be big and important, or just some something small and cute. Focus will also be on Splinter as he grows as a father. The stories take place (in order) from the Turtles ages 0-15.
1. Chapter 1

It was dark and cold that night. Splinter wasn't just shaking from the temperature, though, but from his unending fear as well. Depressed and tired and without any hope left, he looked up. There, in front of him, four turtles slept. But there was something odd about these turtles, just as there was something odd and frightening about Splinter. He was a rat. And the turtles were humanoid.

One of the turtles shivered and turned over in his sleep, causing the one next to him to groan but not wake. The shaking turtle was paler than the others, but taller as well. He was lean and, when awake, had imploring brown, curious eyes. He would watch Splinter for hours on end, observative but sometimes was easily distracted. Being as skinny and pale as the turtle was, Splinter feared for its health.

The turtle who had groaned was the darkest green out of all the four. He was stout and his features were well-defined and sharp. Splinter, in his short time with the turtles, had already seen this one develop a personality. He was pushy and temperamental, his bright green eyes ablaze with malice a tot shouldn't have whenever one of the others angered him. He wouldn't cry or scream, just get revenge, and the sooner, the better.

There were two others, and one, slumbering in an odd position, tongue-hanging out, head resting on the shell of his dark green brother. This turtle was spunky and hardly ever ran out of energy, and Splinter feared one day he'd totter away and get lost. So he kept his watch on this one. The youngster was between pale and grass-green in skin color, and for a reason Splinter couldn't figure out, had freckles. His blue eyes were wide at all times when awake, his expression always happy and carefree.

The last of the group was a small turtle that looked ordinary compared to his brothers. He was brave, as Splinter had already noticed, and would often try to climb to high places. Also, the last turtle had gray eyes that were ever watching, windows to a curious soul. He could crawl and already took to making sure the freckled turtle didn't wander away; he was responsible. And his playful impersonations of his brothers and Splinter himself always made the rat chuckle.

At least they didn't know how difficult life was going to be for them yet, and Splinter decided to keep it that way as long as he could, even though he knew not how long they could last, going on like this. Chances of survival were slim.

When the pale turtle began to shiver again, Splinter panicked. There were no supplies around here, no food, no blankets, no water, no nothing. Just a plain, gross, sewer. But yet, that was the only place where they were safe.

Splinter gently rubbed the heads of each of the turtles in turn. "I'll be back. Just going to get some things."

When Splinter reached the last turtle, just before he patted it on the head, the creature awoke and grasped Splinter's hand, giggling. He was surprised. This turtle had great reflexes, and he added that to his mental notes about these curious new things.

Splinter waited for a moment. Maybe this turtle would do another imitation of him again, he could use something to smile about.

After he stopped giggling, the small turtle tugged himself into a sitting position, using the hand of Splinter he was still grasping for support. After that, the creature immediately set his inquisitive eyes on Splinter, observing, making mental notes. Splinter was kneeling on his knees, so the turtle did that as well. Stroking his head as he watched the turtle, the terrapin imitated that, too. Splinter smiled, so the little turtle did as well.

"Protect your brothers while I'm gone," Splinter whispered, holding the small hand of the turtle. He spoke it slowly, still unsure about how smart these creatures were. Human smart, or only turtle smart? These turtles seemed a little of both species, but Splinter refused to call them mutants. It sounded harsh, already differentiated them, labeling them. Maybe he should name them, wouldn't that make them feel like they fit in the world more when they got older? If they got older...

Surprisingly, the little turtle nodded, agreeing to protect the three others while Splinter was gone. "Good boy." Splinter stood and walked down the tunnels of the sewer, leaving the turtle sitting alone, watching him go. Then, Splinter waved, and the terrapin waved back. After that, the creature was gone from view as Splinter walked away.

There was an odd collection of junk in the tunnels Splinter was disgusted to touch, but he was desperate enough. He even risked a small journey to the surface, where he hadn't been for three days, when had fled to the sewers with the four turtles in his arms. He found food, a small supply but enough to last a few days, ragged but large blankets, and even a few toys and torn, tattered books.

Walking back to the Lair, as Splinter liked to call the haven he'd made in the sewers, he came close enough to see shadows playing against the wall from around the turn. Apparently, the other turtles had woken and were moving around.

When he walked into the room, all the activity stopped. The freckled turtle, who'd been crawling toward the exit, stopped mid-step. The plain, responsible turtle stopped chasing the latter and smiled at Splinter. The hot-headed turtle stopped poking his pale brother and stared.

Splinter walked to the center of the room and sat down, the terrapins following. They watched as he assembled himself in a meditation position, and the responsible turtle imitated it, doing a good job until he keeled over backwards with a yelp. He became stuck on his shell, limbs flailing like those turtles from cartoons. His brothers kindly helped him up, and Splinter smiled proudly.

Once things were back to normal, or as normal as they'd ever be, Splinter brought out the supplies he'd collected. He handed a red blanket to the hot-headed terrapin, a purple to the pale, an orange to the freckled one, and a blue one to the responsible. Each of them ran the fabric through their fingers, amazed at the softness, even if it was ragged and dirty.

After that, Splinter brought out the toys, or whatever he had come by that had potential as a toy. A long stick, lean, and strong, was quickly claimed by the pale turtle, as well as a cracked magnifying glass. The hot-headed turtle pushed the freckled from a plastic ninja star and a toy motorcycle and cheered with delight at his new play things. The freckled turtle sighed and picked up a chain and swung it above his head, and then grasped a skateboard. The responsible turtle, who'd let the others pick first, finally took an old action figure that was missing a leg and covered in dirt as well a plastic sword. The action figure had a sticker on the back that read: "Captain Ryan, defender of the galaxy! Watch Space Heroes on TV, premiering June, 1987."

Splinter was glad to see the turtles enjoy the toys. He was amazed that _turtle_s could know how to use a magnifying glass, throw ninja stars, swing swords (however clumsily), and figure out a skateboard. Maybe they were smarter than the average terrapin after all.

Tired from his journey, Splinter sat down on the floor and began to one of the two books he'd found: "Famous Renaissance Artists". It wasn't particularly a subject of his interest, but he made do.

After a moment, the pale turtle crawled over to him, grunting with the effort, and using the stick he'd taken for support, like a cane. Splinter saw the turtle and his happy mood was punctured. Would this turtle live, at least as long as the others? Maybe the mutation had been hard on this one.

Splinter looked down at the book and the turtle did as well. He almost seemed to be_ reading _the words, or at least figuring what they were. On the page to the right, a large portrait of the artist Donatello (his full name was Donato di Niccolo di Betto Bardi), took up most of the page. The man looked weary and troubled, and that reminded Splinter of the turtle beside him.

The responsible one was inching around the room, zooming his action figure through the air like it was a toy space ship instead of a person, his sword held in a tight fist in the hand touching the floor. All the while, the turtle kept a good eye on the freckled turtle. This turtle, in his observative and curious ways, almost reminded Splinter of Leonardo da Vinci, having read about the man minutes before.

The freckled terrapin was skating around the room, well, almost. He kept his right leg and arm on the board, pushing the ground with his other limbs to move forward on the skateboard. He still held the chain, and swung it above his head whenever he got the chance. This turtle was creative and resourceful, and resembled Michelangelo in that way.

Finally, Splinter's eyes rested on the hot-headed turtle, who'd been hard to spot, as he was sitting alone in a corner. The terrapin was running his fingers along the tamed sides of the toy ninja star, toy motorcycle by his side. Splinter couldn't put his finger on the reason, but he just thought this turtle, lonely and sharp-featured, resembled Renaissance artist Raphael in those ways.

Beside him, the pale turtle moaned, and Splinter's attention was pulled back to him.

Splinter put on a brave face. "Stand a little taller, be a little prouder," he whispered the sickly turtle with a meaningful smile. He gripped both arms of the terrapin under the shoulders and raised him to his feet. The turtle almost fell, but was caught, and Splinter gave him the stick back, and the turtle used it for balance. Blushing, the turtle looked at the floor, but Splinter pressed his chin up. "You are great. Don't ever forget that...Donatello."

For the second time within the hour, all activity in the room stopped. The others knew that their brother had gotten a title, and soon they were clamoring around Splinter for one to call their own.

The responsible turtle hadn't expected to be picked up by Splinter, but he was, and was held gently. Below him, his brothers laughed and the responsible turtle stuck his tongue out at him.

Splinter chuckled. "My little Leonardo." The turtle looked back at Splinter in surprise and soon realized he'd been named and beamed with delight. No longer was he just the 'responsible one', the one with no unique qualities, like freckles, smarts, or attitude.

Leonardo was set down, and then Splinter took the hot-headed turtle and the freckled one into his arms. "Raphael," he said, proudly eyeing the tempered. "Michelangelo," he said to the freckled. Michelangelo clapped and Raphael grinned, probably for the first time.

Once Michelangelo and Raphael were sat down, Leonardo stood up. He didn't crawl, but actually stood. He stumbled and fell against Splinter's legs. "Leonardo," the terrapin said, in a voice full of joy and innocence. He giggled, enjoying his new name.

Splinter smiled. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

* * *

A couple hours later, Splinter was picking up the toys left out from the turtles' playtime. He had a hard time getting them to sleep, especially Donatello, who was stubbornly determined to find out what the squiggly lines in the books were. But eventually he dozed off and Splinter brought him his blanket-the purple one.

Michelangelo had thrown a tantrum when Leonardo almost got the orange blanket, so Splinter had to make sure that Leonardo got the blue one and Michelangelo had the orange. Raphael didn't seem to care about his blanket's color, but it was red.

Once the four brothers were asleep, all in a row, Splinter watched them for a few minutes, his pride swelling.

"Prepare yourselves, my sons, for the life that lies ahead of you will not be soft. There are perils you do not deserve, but you'll be ready when they come. I promise. Our journeys just begun."


	2. Growing Up Chapter 2

**This chapter is mainly just fluff, but I wrote it also to show how quickly the turtles were developing their traits and personalities, and for the fact that the little turtles are just so cute and I don't think that before writing this chapter they had as much influence in the story I'm telling.  
Also, even though this story only takes place a couple days after the 1st chapter, the turtles are going to gradually age throughout this story until they are about 15 or older in the last chapter. **

**Also, I would like to know what you think Raphael's first words in this story should be. It should be something that matches his personality and is cute and sensible. I have an idea for what I want them to be, but I will gladly accept a better idea. **

* * *

Leonardo sat at the kitchen table, rubbing the stubborn dirt off his action figure. After several silent minutes, the small turtle finally managed to scrub it clean. He examined the figurine and, satisfied with his job well-done, smiled slightly. The action figure had short black hair, a square-ish head, a yellow shirt, and was missing one its legs. Leonardo flipped his toy over and stared curiously at the squiggly lines on the figure's back that read:

"Captain Ryan, defender of the galaxy! Watch Space Heroes on TV, premiering June, 1987." Of course, the small tot had no idea how to read yet.

Leonardo decided to go visit his young brother, Michelangelo, who was practicing with his skateboard near the entrance to the dojo where Splinter perfected his ninjitsu. Leonardo turned in his tall chair and cautiously jumped to the ground, but he didn't land right and his knees gave way, dropping him on his back on the floor.

Leonardo hardly even reacted. He flipped over to his plastron and pushed himself to his knees, then his feet. Once he was steady, he picked up the action figure he'd dropped and toddled over to Michelangelo.

"Hello!" Leonardo said in his high-pitched voice. It was only two days ago he'd said his first word (which had been his name, Leonardo).

Michelangelo didn't say hello back, probably because he couldn't speak yet, like Raphael (Donatello had managed to say the first half of his name so far). The freckled turtle used his skateboard as support as he stood up. Then he picked up the board and dropped it on the floor in front of him. Tentively the small turtle put one foot on the skateboard.

Michelangelo pushed off with his foot and instantly lost his balance, crashing to the ground. Splinter, who was busy reading to Donatello and Raphael across the room, looked up concernedly. Leonardo, even as young as he was, knew that his father was going to have a hard time taking care of him and his three brothers, so the turtle found it as a responsibility to help care for his brothers. He ran over to Michelangelo.

Before Michelangelo could start crying from having fallen over, Leonardo grabbed hold of his brother and helped him to his feet. He carefully placed one of Michelangelo's feet on the skateboard and held his brother up as he skated along. It was the first time that Michelangelo had ever stood bipedal while using the skateboard.

Raphael, pushing his cracked plastic motorcycle around on the floor by Splinter's feet as he only half listened to the book his father was reading aloud. Michelangelo, skating on his board with Leonardo's help, gradually made his way over to his dark green brother. The freckled turtle leapt off the board and Leonardo released his grip on his brother.

"Nice!" Leonardo praised his freckled brother, clapping. He figured moral support would inspire Michelangelo to work hard on the skateboard so someday the little turtle could skate without help.

Michelangelo smiled at his brother's applause, then looked at Raphael as if expecting the dark green turtle to break into praise as well. All Raphael did was glare up at him and then drive his little toy motorcycle over Michelangelo's foot.

Michelangelo looked sincerely disappointed, and Leonardo felt for his brother. If he knew any mean names, he would have called Raphael any of them, but, alas, his vocabulary was limited.

Raphael turned his head away from his two brothers as if he was already tired with them and rested it on Splinter's knee. The rat, sitting cross-legged and reading his book on Renaissance artists to Donatello-who was listening avidly-looked down at Raphael and smiled.

Leonardo was still angry at Raphael for ignoring him and Michelangelo, and showed it clearly with his folded arms and scowl. Beside him, Michelangelo had already gotten over his disappointment and seemed eager to join the reading group. He dashed forward and grabbed hold of Splinter's other knee, clumsily pulling himself up.

Splinter looked down at Michelangelo, surprised. "energetic for a turtle aren't you?" he chuckled. Continuing with the book he read,"...And so the artist moved to Florence, Italy..."

Michelangelo, having only heard eight words was already bored with the book. He grabbed hold of Splinter's elbow with one hand and his father's robe with the other. Slowly, he made a slow route upwards, climbing determinedly. Splinter stopped reading and watched, clearly amazed, as Michelangelo cautiously lifted himself onto his father's shoulder and sat down, proud of himself.

Splinter remained very still for a moment, staring at Michelangelo, until Donatello whined impatiently and pointed to the book. Sighing, the rat continued,"...He worked on several paintings over his lifetime, but none more famous than his life-long work, a source of amazement for the entire world, even today..."

Leonardo was even angrier now that _all_ his brothers were getting attention and he wasn't. He wanted to be the center of attention. But he couldn't think of anything he could do that would impress Splinter...

"...The Mona Lisa, painted by Leonardo da Vinci..." read Splinter.

Leonardo, upon hearing his name, let his folded arms go slack at his sides and stared at Splinter. The little turtle had begun to think his father had completely forgotten he existed and was standing only two feet from him. "Me?" he asked perplexedly.

Splinter chuckled happily. In his lap, Donatello rolled his eyes, obviously annoyed that Splinter had stopped reading again and that Leonardo had no idea who da Vinci was.

"Come here, Leonardo,"coaxed Splinter. Leonardo nervously walked over, thinking he might be in trouble. He suddenly felt a strong feeling of vertigo and saw that he was being lifted into the air. Splinter sat him down next to Donatello, rubbed the top of his head affectionately, and said,"Leonardo, don't ever think I will forget you, because I never will. I love you."

Leonardo suddenly had a very warm feeling. "Me too," he whispered, putting his arms around his father.

The mush-fest was very awkward for the rest of the family, Raphael stuck out his tongue and closed his eyes. "Guck!" Michelangelo almost toppled off of Splinter's shoulder as he pretended to gag.

Donatello, however, threw up his hands in disgust, and flung them at the page on Leonardo da Vinci, and said his first words. "FINISH THE DUMB BOOK ALREADY!"


	3. Growing Up Chapter 3

**I'm so sorry! This chapter took forever. I hope you like it!**

* * *

Splinter sat at the kitchen table, chatting with his sons. So far, only Donatello and Leonardo could talk so far, and did not yet know many words, but the conversation made Splinter proud. He felt extremely happy for the first time in months . For a long time he had been unsure about his new life, how things would turn out, what was going to happen, but for the moment everything seemed fine. His children were learning so quickly. Only yesterday Donatello had said his first words, which happened to be "FINISH THE DUMB BOOK ALREADY!" Long story.

"And what's the cont'nent under Europe?" Donatello asked, pointing to a page in the atlas on the table.

"That would be Africa, my son," Splinter replied.

Donatello nodded and pulled the worn-out atlas back to him, studying it intensely.

"Guess what, dad?" Leonardo said, smiling elatedly. His blue eyes lit up like they always did when he was excited.

"And what did you do today?" Splinter asked, adjusting Michelangelo's position in his lap.

"Don'tello taught me to count ta ten!" Leonardo blurted. He quickly began to rattle off numbers, with long pauses between as he racked his brain to remember. "One...two...three...five...I think...six...seven...nine...eight...ten."

Across the table, Donatello rolled his eyes in frustration. Not looking up from his atlas, he said,"Leonardo, ya skipped four _again._ And...I think...you got nine an' eight out of order."

"No! Eight comes before nine!"

An argument broke out, but Splinter hardly paid attention to it. He just smiled. He didn't think he could be any happier than he could now.

But, it seemed, in the blink of an eye, two weeks passed.

He was in the Lair. Donatello was on the floor, carefully drawing a picture of the world's landmasses (Splinter was amazed that Donatello had memorized them already) with a broken purple crayon. Leonardo was watching him with wide eyes while his brother sketched, and every so often would point at a certain continent and ask,"What's dis one, Don'tello?" with a lisp.

And Donatello would be quick to reply,"That's Australia, Leonardo. Haven't I tol' you five times 'ready?"

"Oh," Leonardo would reply every time. He would then, for the moment, go back to reciting numbers one through ten under his breath as practice. "One...two, three...four...five, six, seven, nine, eight...ten." At least he had remembered three.

Splinter felt as if the time had flown by. Wasn't it only a minute ago that he had been sitting at the kitchen table with his four sons, telling all the world's continents to Donatello, who listened eagerly? Wasn't it only a minute ago that Leonardo had been counting to ten with a missing three? Splinter looked over at the calendar he had pinned to the wall. In October, a big X was made on the nineteenth with purple crayon (apparently Donatello was keeping track of the days now, too). It had been two weeks since the time Splinter had been thinking of. Splinter wished the days would stretch on forever, not zip by. He didn't know if he wanted to see his sons grow up so quickly.

Splinter glanced around the room. He was amazed at how much bigger his sons looked. Not too long ago were his sons just barely a foot tall. Leonardo must have grown five inches, at least!

Suddenly, Splinter realized he could only see Donatello and Leonardo. Where were Raphael and Michelangelo? "Raphael, Michelangelo?" Splinter called, eyes darting around the room. _Please don't let anything bad happen to them_, he thought anxiously.

Donatello looked up from his drawing. "Hi, Dad! Michela'gelo is skating. And I don' know where Raphael is."

And at that moment, Michelangelo came zooming into the room, steering his little skateboard in tight turns and circles, cheering euphorically. Leonardo and Donatello jumped out of the way as the freckled terrapin rolled over the paper Donatello had been drawing on. As Michelangelo circled around Splinter, a blur of green, Raphael came running in, roaring with rage.

Michelangelo let out a strange noise of surprise, halfway between a scream and a cough. He increased his speed, watching behind himself closely. He tried to perform a tight turn to avoid hitting a wall, but something went wrong and he tumbled to the floor. Raphael approached him, shaking angrily.

Splinter jumped up and separated the two as they began to wrestle, Michelangelo defending himself while Raphael let out his anger.

"Raphael, what have I told you about fighting?" Splinter scolded. "I am very disappointed in you." Raphael looked at his feet shamefully and, behind Splinter's back, Michelangelo stuck out his tongue at his brother.

"He started it..." Raphael muttered, glaring up at Michelangelo.

Splinter, for a moment, was shocked that Raphael could speak. Then the memory came back to him that two days ago Raphael had said his first words, which had been "Gimme that!". Splinter suddenly felt sad again. He loved this children like they were truly his sons and didn't want to see the years fly by, as they got older and older and didn't need him as much anymore. He guessed this was how all parents felt. Out of impulse, Splinter hugged Raphael.

Raphael, however, didn't return the favor. He stuck out his tongue and tried to wriggle free. "Not in front of Leo..."

Over in the corner, Leonardo and Donatello were laughing and pointing. Raphael glared at them. Michelangelo, however, wasn't paying the situation any attention and was twirling his skateboard around with his hands.

Splinter let go of Raphael and backed up. "Now, Raphael, do you even remember what you were angry at Michelangelo for?"

Raphael, still embarrassed, looked up at the ceiling. "Noo..." he said as if he was having the worst moment ever. Splinter smiled.

_Whoosh! _Michelangelo sped right past Splinter on his skateboard, leaving behind him a wake of wind that fluttered Splinter's ears. Leonardo and Donatello screamed as their reckless brother zoomed toward them. Donatello ran away, hands protecting his head, the skateboard breezing over where his foot had been only seconds before. Leonardo was barely missed. Donatello's illustration blew away and he snatched it out of the air.

"Hey!" Leonardo called to Michelangelo, who was just a shadow disappearing down a sewer tunnel to the right."We're drawin' here! We're drawin' here!"

"COWABUNGA!" Michelangelo called, the word echoing and rebounded in the high walls of the Lair.

Donatello perked up, his huge burgundy eyes narrowed in thought. "Is cowabunga a word?"

"I'll take it," Leonardo replied simply,"'Bout time he said sumthin'!"

Splinter had had a change of heart. He decided he couldn't wait to see his sons grow up. It was going to be the best years of his life.

Leonardo stared at his father inquisitively. "Dad? Haven't ya told Michelan'go like twenty-eleven times ta stay out of the sewer tunnels?"

"Oh," said Splinter just remembering. "Donatello, you be in charge. I have to go find Michelangelo."


End file.
